Page 11 of The Kings
“Eliza,” Oliver’s voice sounds behind me, and I smile, turning to him.
“Hello.”
“You weren’t going to wait?” he asks, falling into step beside me, looking hot as hell in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants.
“Didn’t think I had to.”
“Would’ve been nice.”
I snort. “Nice? Have you met me?”
He laughs; it’s humorous but also full of darkness. “You’re a delight.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, not quite sure what to do with that. I’ve been called many things, but ‘delight’ has never been one of them.
“You’re intriguing. I can’t wait to find out more.”
“Back at you.”
He leads me to a side entrance in the PE building, I’m guessing, as we walk into a gym with all the equipment pushed back against the wall. The music is thumping, and the drinks are flowing.
Too many of these idiots are already plastered. Not a good way to keep your ass safe. I like a good drink as much as the next girl, but getting drunk isn’t really my style.
It’s all about control.
My gaze drifts, searching the crowd until I find who I’m looking for—Raphael.
He’s leaning against a wall, a bottle of beer in his hand, looking as gorgeous as he did on our very first encounter. I flash back momentarily, tipsy and horny. It’s a dangerous combination when hot guys are lurking around the upper floor of your home. Guess I know what he was doing there now. He was waiting for my dad. Our eyes lock for a fraction of a second, and I wait for that flicker of recognition, but there’s nothing. He either has an epic poker face, or he is the biggest douche on the planet. Either way, it doesn’t stop me from enjoying the view, but it irks me more than I want to admit.
“Congrats, Eliza,” Raphael finally says, sauntering over and raising his bottle in a toast before turning away to engage someone else in conversation.
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“Tonight’s your night, Eliza. Don’t let him get under your skin.”
I look up to see Tarquin hovering in view. I would love nothing more than to get his cock between my thighs to ride himuntil he broke. And if Raphael happened to walk in on us, well, even fucking better.
“Right. My night.” I accept the bottle he hands me and take a gulp, scanning the area and deciding this scene is not for me.
Rowdy, drunk assholes and shrieking girls are causing my nerves to flare up. It’s too casual, too lax. Where is the security? Where is thecontrol?
Giving them all a look of distaste, I turn on my heel and head out, knowing I’ll be called a stuck-up bitch or something equally as hateful, but I’m not a faker. Not when it doesn’t suit me, anyway, and this situation doesn’t call for it.
The cool night air is a welcome relief as I slip back outside and stride over the quad.
“Leaving so soon?” a voice purrs, and I turn to see a group of well-dressed underlings parting to make way for David.
“Yeah, it’s not my scene.”
He chuckles, low and dark, as he stops right in front of me and reaches out to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger.
My eyebrow goes up as I let him think he has me right where he wants me. He’s beyond a douche who thinks he can have everything he wants, including me.
His eyes hood as he tugs gently, a slow, sinister smile curving up his too-full lips. He’s not good-looking in the sense that he’s hot, but he’s got charisma coming out of his ass and that whole danger thing going on. Too bad, I like my guys rough, gorgeous and savage. David strikes me as the type who would let others do his dirty work. Not my kind of guy at all.
When I fail to react, he tugs harder, his eyes almost gleaming as he thinks he has some control over me.
Hard no.
